


Possession

by sentimental_boy



Series: Matt Murdock imagines [85]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Basically a different take on Shadowland, Demon possession, F/M, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent!reader, Shadowland story arc, when thte wold spins out of control so does Matt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 21:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sentimental_boy/pseuds/sentimental_boy
Summary: Daredevil is trying a new angle protecting his city by leading the Hand. Spoiler alert: it doesn't go well for him.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s your lucky day. Daredevil’s getting out of hand. For a while, it was radio silence from the hero. But he recently returned to Hell’s Kitchen, this time leading the Hand. A known criminal organization. At first, it seemed that Daredevil was using the hand to exact justice on a wider scale. Still criminal, but as long as he sticks to taking down gangs and mobs, it’s under S.H.I.E.L.D.‘s pay grade. Then he killed Bullseye. Now, ‘out of hand’ by S.H.I.E.L.D.‘s standards means things have to be  _bad_. Daredevil killing a homicidal maniac who’s been after him for years hardly counts as bad in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s book. But you saw it for what it was. Daredevil never killed anyone before this. Something isn’t right here.

“Director Fury, I have something on the Daredevil case.”

“What did he do?”

You sigh. “He killed one of his enemies. Now, I know better than anyone that sometimes, that’s what it takes. I’ve seen it enough times. But this isn’t his M.O. We’ve been watching him for years and he hasn’t killed once. Bullseye and Daredevil have been archenemies for almost as long as they’ve been in the press separately. Why kill him now? Why not when Elektra died at Bullseye’s hand?” You pull up the footage of his fight with Bullseye. “Look at that. Elektra’s weapon, straight through his back. That’s a crime of passion. Revenge. But it’s been so long. He’s never been this bad before.”

Fury is silent for a while. “I hear what you’re saying. But right now he’s not an immediate concern. Contact the other Defenders. See if they can shed some light on this. Come to me if anything else happens.”

If this came from anyone else, you’d take it for the pacifier that it would be. But Fury was the one who gave you this case and let you give fieldwork a try even though you’re a healer. So you take his advice and run with it.

—0—

So that’s what you do. You contact Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, Hellcat, and Daimon Hellstrom.

“We thought he was dead.” Jessica states.

“Is that why he went off the grid for so long?”

“They never found a body, but after Midland Circle, we assumed…” Trish trails off.

“What, that no one survives being crushed by a building?” You let out a humorless laugh. Sometimes you forget that most people— even these people— aren’t used to this sort of thing happening. “Your friend is alive, but he’s… different.”

They chorus out questions of what and how, quieting soon after, waiting for an answer. Before you can provide one, Daimon moves on to relevant questions.

“Different how?” He asks, unphased by the news. It makes sense that the exorcist, occult expert, demonologist, and man of the like takes this in stride. This is hardly the strangest thing he's heard of.

“We don’t know the extent of it, but we have footage of him killing his longtime enemy, Bullseye.”

“Why does S.H.I.E.L.D. care about that?” Jessica asks. “You guys have no problem killing when the situation calls for it.”

“You’re right, but Daredevil isn’t part of a government— or any— agency. At least, he wasn't. Pair his recent killing with becoming the leader of the Hand—”

“What?” Luke cuts in.

“Does that seem out of character to you?”

“Considering that he died fighting them? Yeah, it's weird.”

“That, and they have a streak of bringing people back to life, through a demon called ‘the Beast.’” Daimon supplies.

“You think the Hand did this?”

Luke shakes his head. “I don’t know, but you came to us. I’m telling you what we learned when we fought them.”

“If he died and the Hand brought him back, he’s not himself.” Daimon states. “When they resurrect people, they come back as the darkest parts of themselves. And we all know he had a dark side.”

“Any other day, I can respect a secret identity. But with what we're facing, we’re going to need all the information you have on him.”

“We don’t know much,” Jessica says.

“I think you do, Ms. Jones. You are a private investigator, after all.”

She raises her brows, letting out an unimpressed huff. “We had a job. Dismantle the Hand and save New York in the process. We won. I don’t do research unless I’m getting paid.”

“You didn’t care who you were working with? For someone with your trust issues, I find it hard to believe you’d go along with total strangers so easily.”

“Trust issues?” She looks around the room, peeved.

“You’re not the only one who can read people, Ms. Jones.”

“Well, it’s like you said; Daredevil had a clear set of morals even if they made him a pain in the ass. He was doing some good out there, that was enough for me.”

“So, none of you can tell me anything about Daredevil.”

“Sorry.” Trish shrugs.

“Do you think he’d respond if you contacted him?”

“If he hadn’t died at the end of our first and last mission together? Yeah. But if the Hand… brought him back, well, you heard Damion.”

“Would you be willing to try?”

They all exchange glances.

“Listen, to S.H.I.E.L.D., Daredevil is the furthest thing from a priority right now but this is the case I was assigned. I’d love to move on to a real problem but I can’t do that if we don’t know where he stands. He’s been on our radar since the press caught wind of him. I thought he could’ve been one of ours till he put on that devil suit.”

“Because S.H.I.E.L.D. has never worked with costumed weirdos before.” Jessica snorts.

“Well, I tend to meet those costumed weirdos we work with. Or at the very least know about them. My point is: as long as he’s doing good, we’ll leave him alone. You’d be helping your friend.”

Jessica is still unsure; you can see that much. But Luke, Trish, and Daimon shrug at each other before Luke turns to Jessica for approval. She throws her hands up. “Fine. But if S.H.I.E.L.D. goes after him it’s not my fault.”

“Do you have somewhere we can contact you?” Trish asks.

“Oh, yeah. Thank you, I know this kind of decision isn’t easy.”

—0—

It’s less than a week later when they call you, setting a place to meet.

“You were right. He’s not the person we worked with before.” Trish starts. “We tried to help him, talk him down but he wouldn’t have it. He’s paranoid; thinks that we’re pretending to help, only waiting to stab him in the back.”

“I tried to approach him about Bullseye,” Jessica says. “I told him that I know what it’s like to have someone plaguing you for years, obsessed with you, then dealing that final blow. There have to be emotions there. He told me that there’s nothing to talk about. Doesn’t say anything about his headspace, though. He and I are similar in a lot of ways. I can’t say I was willing to open up after I faced my demon.”

“Luke, what about you?” You ask.

“I didn’t like his attitude, that’s for sure. His foot soldiers have called him Lord Daredevil a few too many times if you ask me. The man we knew would’ve never allowed that, let alone actually taken that role. More than that, he thinks he’s doing good. He brought up some valid points about how terrible the world is right now. How everything we’ve fought for is being spat all over. But he couldn’t accept that what he’s doing now, how he’s going about it, makes him as bad as they are. When I said that, he snapped. He announced: Consider this me lifting the ban on killing. He said he wanted us, dead or alive. Then his army charged us. I don't know how we got out of there.”

“So, he had a strict no-kill policy before this.”

“Yeah. I don’t believe that  _was_  Matt in there today.” Damion murmurs.

“You said something about a demon when we talked before. I know you’re an occult expert and a freelance exorcist. Do you think something could’ve taken hold of Matt’s body during the resurrection?”

“I’m sure of it after today.”

“It’s not only his brutality anymore, either,” Trish says. “He seemed like he’d grown a couple feet. Matt’s always been strong, but the things he was doing when we fought him— they weren’t in his skill set or even his capability before.”

“So we all agree he needs to be dealt with.”

“Dealt with?” Luke questions.

“I’m sorry, that sounds final. If he lets us, I want to bring him in alive.”

“No. There is no “if he lets us”. Between our people and your people, we have the means to bring him in no matter what he’s hopped up on.”

You nod. “Fair enough.”

“I can’t help but notice that you don’t seem too put off by the idea of demonic powers.” Damion prompts.

“I don’t know if I believe that’s what it is, but there’s no question whether beings with powers exist. Hell, most of the people in this room have them. Someone being able to inhabit and control a person wouldn't be the strangest thing I've seen. Because of your beliefs and experiences, Daimon, you believe it’s a demon. I’ve seen enough by now to know better than to write anything off.”

He nods. “Good. You and I need to sit down and have a serious discussion about how much stock you’re willing to put in this demon business. You can heal people, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Your file doesn’t say anything about you being psychic, Daimon.”

“Low level. I can’t read your mind or anything, but I get a sense about people sometimes.” He spins his trident between his fingers. “I can heal people too. Ironic that the son of Satan gets a healer's touch, huh? These guys can beat him up, hold him down, throw him in a cell,” he gestures to the other Defenders. “But we need to have a plan about how we’re going to fix him so we don’t have to throw him in a cell.”

“Sounds good to me. Is now a good time?”

“As any.” He allows. When nobody moves, Daimon looks over at the little group. “You’re welcome to listen in, but I don’t want to hear any sneering while we’re trying to save our friend.”

“Shit, dude. If I don’t need to be here, I’m ready for a drink. Luke, Trish?”

“I’m with Jessica.” Luke states. “I’ll leave the demon wrangling to the professionals.”

Trish stands. “I need a drink too, babe.” She leans down and places a kiss to Daimon’s temple. “Good luck.”

He turns to give her a quick kiss before she follows Jessica and Luke out.

“Now, I mentioned the Beast before. But this isn’t any B or C lister. This demon, it—” Daimon sighs. “I’m going to give you my best crash course on politics in Hell so you have some perspective, but there’s a reason I’m not a professor anymore.”

That gets a laugh out of you. “I can’t imagine Mr. Shirtless McPentagram as a professor. I figured your students kept getting distracted by… that.” You finish, gesturing to  _him_.

He laughs. “Well, I didn't have the same rep to maintain, so I could afford to wear a shirt." He pauses, grinning at your laughter. "You know, you're not half bad for a by-the-book agent. If this goes well, maybe we could work together in the future.”

You shrug. “S.H.I.E.L.D. has a monopoly on my life. My family doesn’t stop complaining about it. Ever. But on the off chance that I’m not in the middle of something, sure.”

“Fair enough. So, to get right into it, Hell is almost identical to how everybody makes it out to be. Fire, brimstone, torture, the whole nine yards. It isn’t, however, biblical. If such a thing as Satan from the bible exists, I’ve never come across him. So, in Hell, there’s one demon who rises to be king of Hell— the actual Devil, if you will. There are always the same five contenders. My dad is one of them; he ran Hell for a long time. Right now, the guy ruling is called Mephisto. These are the worst of the worst, most powerful demons down there. Now, the Beast was going to pursue the title of the Devil. The king of Hell. It was powerful enough; there’s no doubt about that. Then it disappeared. No one knew where it went, or what it was doing and they decided not to look too closely at that gift.

I’ve heard of the Hand and their undead warriors. I’ve also heard that they continue to come back from the dead through the power of the Beast. It brings them back as long as they feed it violence and death. I never looked into it because it seemed to be its own little island of evil mystery. They’d bother a couple heroes every now and again who would put them back in their place; the world rights itself, good prevails. You know the drill. I had bigger problems. I should have known better. The Beast didn’t disappear; it found a cult to worship it.”

“You think that’s how Daredevil came back?”

“I'm sure of it. The problem I have is that I’ve only heard of the Beast possessing someone once. And that was only to punish a Hand member who went against it. Otherwise, it works its power from afar. For it to be residing in— fuck it, his name is Matt. For it to be residing in Matt? He’s a good man. If I’m honest, this scares the shit out of me. I have no idea what this means or what it has planned.”

“Alright, so what can we do?”

“Well, once we get there, I know my way around an exorcism. I can get in Matt's head and deal with the Beast. The problem is getting in and getting him in a position to start freeing him. And if we don’t get there soon enough, it could kill Matt. I don’t know how long this has had a hold on Matt— if it was before he killed Bullseye or after. But we need to act fast. The second it had a strong enough hold to start controlling him, it's been trying to shove him into a corner in his own mind. It wants Matt small enough and scared enough that it can keep him compliant or unaware of anything past the hell it created for him.”

“Okay, but I’m a healer. I’m not psychic. The only time I can alter someone’s mind is when they have a mental illness. I can ease depression and anxiety, but this stuff is way out of my league.”

“That’s why I’ll deal with the Beast. You focus on Matt. How does it work when you cure— or ease someone’s depression or anxiety?”

“It’s a feeling more than anything else, I guess. I search for energies and I use mine to heal them, I don’t know exactly how it works.” You finish, defeated.

“No, that’s good. Do that. When we get to him, go in as you would for anything else. I know he has depression. If nothing else, look for that. He’s going to be a shell of himself. Search for that broken energy to heal and talk to him. Use your negotiating skills to coax him to the surface.”

“You think that’s going to work?”

“It’s our best shot.”

“Alright, I’ll get an emergency team together.”

—0—

You end up going in with the Defenders, along with The Punisher (of all people), and Spider-Man. His teammates already tried to approach him with friendly faces, so now you’re going in.

When you get to the entrance of Daredevil's new base, Hand soldiers are there to greet you.

“I’m here to see your leader.”

“Did Lord Daredevil send for you?”

“I’m here to discuss a business arrangement.”

“I did not hear about this.”

“And I’m sure he tells you everything. You know he can hear us right now. Are you sure you want to make him come over here?” At the resulting silence, you continue. “Do I look like a threat to you? I know there’s an army in there, not to mention Daredevil himself.”

Another member of the Hand comes and whispers to the one you’re speaking to. He gives you one last suspicious look before he lets you in. The new Hand member leads you to Daredevil’s  _fucking throne_. Dramatic, much.

“Leave us.” He states, sitting in silence until the lackey leaves. “It’s funny,” he begins. “That you thought you could sneak in here without my express permission.”

“Who says I thought that?”

He sits there in silence, tilting his head as you make your way up the steps to stand in front of him.

“You’ve forgotten what it’s like for people not to be under your control, haven’t you?” When he doesn’t say anything, you go on. “Is that why you ordered your army to capture or  _kill_  your friends?”

“I knew it was a setup. I knew they were here only to conspire against me. You’re proof of that.”

“I brought your recent killing and increased brutality to their attention, yes. But they came as friends. I have no doubt if they saw a glimmer of the person they knew before, they would have told me to stand down. They still haven’t given me the intel I need on you, even after you betrayed them.”

He lets out a dark laugh. “ _I’m_ betraying  _them_. That’s rich.”

You shrug. “Okay. I thought the kill order was a little over the top. I mean, I get it. You've always been a drama queen,  _Daredevil_. But never like this.”

“What would you do, then?”

“Not kill the only people who are trying to help me. Even if I didn’t like what they had to say.”

“I don’t expect you to understand.” He mutters. “I’m still protecting my city.”

“Yeah, that’s why you built an evil lair and named it Shadowland.”

He continues as if you hadn’t said anything except for more pointed passion flaming in his words. “The only difference is that I’ve realized more drastic measures are necessary. Now, if you’re not going to try to bring me in,  _agent_ , I suggest you leave while I still allow it.”

You let out a laugh. “You know, you act like you’re in charge here. I understand; it would be easy to get used to. But make no mistake. This is a friendly warning. Professional courtesy. You’re not untouchable, despite your army and your temple you had them build for you.” You gesture to the room you’re in. Specifically the  _throne_ he’s currently sitting on. “You better start dialing it back or I’m going to have to resort more unpleasant methods.”

“I’m doing what I have to, to clean up after organizations like yours. And I’m not going to stop, so why don’t you show me those methods? Right now.” He stands, walking down the steps, toward you. “Oh, and tell your friends they can come out now.”

Your super-team comes out of the shadows.

“You’re pretty confident, Murdock. You sure you want to fight us all by yourself?” Luke asks.

“Murdock isn’t here.” His voice comes out deep and booming.

“I guess that’s our cue,” Spider-Man says.

They all gang up on him, each of them doing their part laying him out and restraining him while you get to him. You pillow his head in your lap, while Daimon rushes to your side. He takes Matt's mask off, revealing two horns under the skin of his forehead and glowing red eyes. His screams come out in a deep, echoing, bass. When Daimon glances at you, his face says one thing.  _This is worse than we thought_. He gives you a quick nod, making sure you're ready, before putting two fingers to Matt's temple and focusing. The scene before you hits you harder than you thought it would've.

Watching everybody struggle to hold Matt down, seeing Daimon jump in like that, sends your nerves through the roof. You've never used your powers like this. Mental illnesses are one thing but a possession? You take a deep breath. People are counting on you and nobody is going to hold your hand through this. This is why you sat down with Daimon before you came here, though. Now it's time to go in and draw Matt out of the corner of his mind this demon beat him into. “Matt, come on, I know you can fight this now.”

He lurches up, (or tries to) gasping. “Please, h-help. I can’t hold it off for very long. You have to kill me.” He turns to you. “Please.” You’re the only one here who doesn’t know him; who might actually do it.

“Matt, killing you isn't going to work. This Beast will only leave your body and go back to where it came from. You'll be the only one dead. You have to fight it.”

“I— I can’t. I can’t do this anymore. I don't care, please, end it.”

“Hey, Matt, you're not alone anymore. The sooner you gather your strength and do this, the sooner it will all be over. Come on, your friends are here, Damion is keeping the Beast at bay, I’m here, lending you my strength. Come on.” You run your hands through his hair, trying to soothe him. “If your reputation is anything to go by, you’re one of the only men strong enough to do this.”

He lays back, panting like he’s been deprived of air for too long. “I’m sorry.” He forces out between harsh breaths. Then his face pulls tight before he lets out a pained cry and goes limp.

You all sit around him in stunned silence as you feel his neck for a pulse. If there is one, it’s too weak for you to feel it. You bring your hands to his chest, closing your eyes, feeling for any sign of his energy left in him. Then you find it. It’s barely there, like the glow of a candle wick when you don’t blow it out all the way. The same in the way it sits there, deciding whether it’s going to flare back to life again. “There’s still a flicker of life left in him. Damion, we can bring him back if we work together.”

“He killed the beast. What’s your plan?"

“Make sure his body and soul recovers. I’ll heal his mind.”

He nods.

Confident in Daimon’s abilities, you take the opportunity to focus. Your energy is already drained from keeping Matt’s mental state healed enough to fight off the demon but  _he fought off a demon_. You’re not giving up until he’s able to recover or you pass out. You lose track of how long you sit like that, breathing, trying to make your energy last as long as it can but at some point, you feel a hand on your shoulder. You startle, but when you snap back to reality you realize it’s Daimon’s hand and Matt’s breathing is starting to even out.

You look around. “Where is everyone?”

“I sent them home, or to finish saving the day. After all, it doesn’t end here. Half the city was affected by the same evil that possessed Matt.”

You let out a breath of relief, looking down at the man you saved. “Hey, Matt, how are you doing?”

He lets out a breath, groaning as he sits up. “I—” He puts a hand to his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Oh, God. I can’t— I killed bullseye. I tried to have you guys killed. Shit. I’m so sorry.” He puts his hand to his mouth, leaning against the wall and curling into himself. “Oh god.  _The Punisher_  felt the need to step in— thought I was going too far. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I—”

“Hey, Matt, it wasn’t you. We all know that. If it wasn’t obvious before, we knew when the Beast announced that you weren’t in control of your own body anymore.” Daimon tries to console Matt.

“Did I— I thought—”

“What, Matt?” You ask.

“I thought I died.”

“It was a close call. We brought you back.” You tell him.

"Why?" He murmurs, broken.

"What do you mean,  _why_?"

“Why didn’t you let me die? It took both of you to get me here and I still feel like I got hit by a truck. S.H.I.E.L.D. sent you. Why didn’t you tell them that bringing me back for even that short amount of time exhausted your powers? It would have tied up loose ends for you. You could walk away with a clean conscience knowing that you freed a man from a literal demon.”

“Is he always like this?” You glance at Damion.

“More or less.”

“Well, Matt, you’re right. Saving you wasn’t the mission. The mission was to find out what sparked the sudden change in Daredevil’s behavior and to get you to chill the fuck out. They don’t want to deal with the paperwork of bringing you in or one of their agents killing you. That’s why they sent me.”

“But, not only did you not kill me, you brought me back.  _Why_?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Any other time I'd say that you fought the good fight and you deserved to rest now. But something kept gnawing at me. I don’t know what it was. I’m exhausted and I want to go home. You seem like a good man. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Right, I’m sorry.” He lets out a breath. “Suspicion comes with the job. But I guess you know that.” He pauses, hanging his head. “Thank you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve seen enough unbelievable catastrophes to know that everyone deals with them in their own way.”

He nods. “Thank you, too, Damion. For not leaving me on my own even after I called for our friends and your capture or death.”

“Even before we found out that  _a demon_  was in your body, I knew that wasn’t you. You’re a good man, Matt. More than that, you’re our friend. I know everyone would be here anxiously waiting for you to wake up if they didn’t have the civilian population to deal with.”

“Thank you, for saying that.” He pauses. “You can— you can go help too. I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I need a minute to myself after all this anyway. After all, not even my thoughts have been my own for a while now.”

“Alright, you know any of us are only a phone call away.”

Matt nods. “Yes, I—” He sighs. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Damion casts one last pitying glance on Matt before he runs off.

You sit with Matt in silence for a minute. “Well, Daredevil, I’m agent 21.” You hold your hand out. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

He lets out a breathy laugh. After everything, he’s surprised at how genuine it is. “Agent 21, hmm? You’ve seen my face, used my name. What’s your real name?”

You smile, hoping it comes through in your voice as you introduce yourself for real. “Now, you better keep that to yourself. I didn’t even give your friends my name.”

“Don’t tell me I get special treatment because I’m blind.”

“No, the whole demon possession thing might have gained you a little sympathy, though.”

“I guess I can live with that.”

“Good.”

After that, your conversation putters out for a few minutes. You can’t bring yourself to leave quite yet, though.

“So, do you have questions you need to ask me?”

“Yeah.” You click off the recording device sewed into the shoulder of your suit. “But as far as I’m concerned, you and S.H.I.E.L.D. are good.”

He raises his brows. “Are you qualified to make that call?”

“Matt, no one else wants to get involved if they can help it. We have so many open cases, an open and shut like this is a godsend. The director trusts me. If I say you’re fine, you’re fine. After all, Fury assigned me to watch you years ago. Your do-gooding was boring me, Matt.”

“I bet exorcizing a demon and helping me kill it will get you a nice promotion.”

“Here’s hoping.”

“At least someone got something out of all this.”

“You know, you can come to me if you need to. I know it's a pointless offer when you have your friends and fellow superheroes to go to, but I don’t know. maybe talking to someone who isn’t so close to this— or you— will be easier. I’ve seen a lot. Both in person and through screens while my coworkers went through world-altering events and came out the other side worse for it. And hey, a cup of coffee is a lot cheaper than a therapist.” You dig out a card from your belt. As you’re about to give it to him you stop. “You’re really blind, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” He sighs.

“Alright, hang on.” You pull out your phone, looking up the braille number system. “Wow, the service in here isn’t too bad for a lair.”

He snorts. “And you would know, huh.”

“That’s right. It’s part of why they’re still popular nowadays with all this technology. It’s just a bunch of wires and metal if you have thick enough walls.”

“What are you doing over there?” He asks. listening to your pen scratching away at the card.

“Just a minute.” You finish up and hand the card over to him. He feels it, finding the bumps and reading them before letting out a laugh.

“What?”

“When I flip it so the bumps are up, instead of indented how you wrote them, it’s backward.”

“Oh. I should have thought of that.”

He shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “It’s okay. I can still read it. I— it’s been a long time since anyone has gone out of their way to be that thoughtful for me.”

“Well, I hope you remember that. And that’s my personal number, so everything’s as confidential as it ever is over the phone.”

“You're really not going to take me in? You know I don't have the energy to put up a fight.”

“And if you did, I could drain it faster than I gave it to you. No. If I wanted to take you in, we’d be on our way right now.”

He lets out a pensive hum. “I don't know if I should be offended that you don't want to take me in. After all, I'm supposed to be a formidable opponent who works outside the law; a dangerous man, agent. Word on the street is that there's nothing I fear.”

You give him the grace of not mentioning that 20 minutes ago, you saw him petrified. “I love it. You’re more worried about your street cred than an official organization coming after you.”

“In this business, a reputation’s all you got.” He lets out a breath. “Speaking of, mine went down the gutter anyway, didn’t it?”

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?” His silence is answer enough. “Matt, we watched as you won a fight against a literal demon that had taken up residence in your body. I don’t know if you could tell, but when you almost died for a minute there, after you defeated him, you shrunk about two feet. Before that, your eyes were a solid, glowing red under your mask. The horns weren’t metaphorical. These little symbols—” you guide his hand to feel the horns on his helmet. “Were about 5 times that size.”

He sits there with his head hung. “I don’t remember most of what happened. Not while I was… possessed. I do remember killing Bullseye, though. That was all me, I opened that door.”

You sigh. “Listen, I know that’s something you’re going to have to come to terms with. But can I tell you what conclusion I came to about killing? How your friends reacted after?”

He gives a silent nod.

“Whatever stole your body from you— it called itself the Beast. The Beast was trying to resurrect Bullseye when we came in. Of course, your friends hated to see you cross that line when you’re so strongly against killing, and many of them are too. But you know what they said after you killed the Beast and saved everyone in the city from it?”

He lets out a questioning hum. It’s all he can manage right now.

“The Punisher pointed out that at least Bullseye stayed dead and Luke agreed.  _Small mercies_ , he said. It’s going to be hard to move forward after this, but you do so much good. And it’s not like you killed an innocent.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? I still killed someone. Whether he was a homicidal maniac doesn’t matter. When I crossed that line I became him.”

“Are you saying that the Punisher and Bullseye are the same?”

Matt raises his brows.

“Okay, despite the fact that the Punisher still has a code and fights for innocents, I see that that was a bad example. Do you think that... fuck, Captain America and Bullseye are the same?”

“ _What_? How’d you draw those lines together?”

“Captain America has killed people. More than once.”

“That’s different. He’s been a soldier since before any of our parents were conceived.”

“And? The people he was fighting still had families, people who would mourn their loss.”

“Yeah, but they were doing terrible things. They didn’t leave him a choice.”

“Uh, huh. So, you think the people Captain America has fought are worse than an indiscriminate assassin who gets his kicks from torturing the innocent?”

“They were Nazis.” He deadpans.

"Yeah, good point, but they're not the only ones he's killed. World War II wasn't his only battle."

He shrugs. "I guess."

"Think about it. The very fact that you’re struggling with this means you’re still the same man you’ve always been. Doing what we do, especially freelance, things can get blurry. They made Bullseye an  _Avenger._ " You notice him puff up at that, his guilt overrun by anger for a moment. "I was there for that. I remember thinking: The only thing crazier than him is this decision. Then he went to prison. He didn’t stay there. You fought him countless times, each time brought droves of carnage around you. You said it yourself. Last time you tried to handle him, he leveled a tenement block. He killed over 100 people without blinking an eye. And here he was taunting you again. You snapped. I’m not saying it was good, or even right, but it doesn't mean you're bad _._ ”

“Thank you.” He murmurs.

You know he isn’t convinced. Then again, you didn’t expect him to be. Not right away, anyway. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I have no idea.”

“Then I’ll stay with you until you do have an idea.”


	2. Chapter 2

Matt doesn’t know where to go after everything. He can’t face his friends or the city he loves so much. He kept the card from that S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. He doesn't know if he'll use it. For now, he ends up at his church. His priest takes one look at him and sighs.

“Matthew, do you know what time it is?”

“I’m sorry, father, I need to be here. I understand if you can't take my confession but please don't turn me away.”

“What's going on, Matthew? You look worse than I've seen you before. And I was here after a building fell on you."

Matt nods. “I’m sorry. I can’t trust myself right now.”

"You can't trust yourself with what?"

Matt stays silent.

The priest sighs. "I know you too well and I've seen that look too many times. You might not be around to come back in the morning if I turn you away, right?"

"I'm sorry."

—0—

By Morning, Matt leaves for Mexico. His priest is understanding and better than anyone at working him down but it comes down to the fact that this is Confession, not therapy. While Matt feels he has much to confess to, the reality is that he doesn’t remember most of it. Because he didn’t do it. Whether he’s willing to accept that or not.

Either way, he needs to let this out. He’s thankful for all his friends and allies, but he can’t talk to any of them about this. Jessica is as emotionally constipated as he is— more so, even. Luke is frustratingly self-righteous. Daimon has a good heart but he doesn't strike Matt as the talk it out kind of guy, whether he offered or not. Matt has a feeling that Daimon would excuse his actions if anything. Trish… he doesn’t know well enough. And Spider-Man is too young. Besides all that, he’s not ready to strip his soul bare to any of them and unfortunately, Foggy doesn’t get it. He’s left with three options. Keep it in and brood— he's already decided that isn’t a healthy coping mechanism (not that that's ever stopped him). Go to a real therapist— too expensive. Or he could talk to the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who helped him. She seemed genuine when she offered her shoulder to cry on. So, he calls her.

“Hello?” You answer, confused at the unknown number.

“Hi.” He clears his throat. “It’s Matt. I uh, does your offer to talk about what happened still stand?”

“Yeah, of course. Right now?”

“If it’s not a good time I can call back.”

“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t sure, that's all. So, what’s going on Matt?”

—0—

Over the next few months, Matt would call in a panic about what he did— or what a demon did in his body while he was stuck in his own mind. The memories would be patchy and you would talk him down, or help him remember details if that’s what he needed at the time. You were able to meet up a few times in person. Those times lasted hours. As the meetings and conversations went on, you started to stray from the initial topic that brought you together that day until you stopped needing an emotional crisis to get together. Any time you were passing through the area for work, you’d make sure to meet up with him, even if it was only for a hug and reassurance.

Matt doesn’t know how to feel. Well, if he’s honest with himself, he knows exactly how he feels. He doesn’t know how you feel and therefore, doesn’t know if he should tell you how he feels. He knows he falls hard, fast, and often into love. It’s why he knows exactly what this is so early on. The more he talks to you, the less he wants to talk about all the bad that happened to him recently and the more he wants to find out about you. This started as a way to get him through the aftermath of a demon possessing him but it’s so much more than that now. He’s not the only one who initiates anymore. Sometimes you’ll call him sounding distant, asking if he’s okay. The first few times, that’s all you’d say, insisting you were fine when he asked. When he pressed, you eventually told him that you had a bad mission and you needed to talk to someone about anything. You’d fall asleep on the phone together.

After being out here, having no contact with his friends for months, he’s finally decided that he’s done brooding. Or that’s how he’s sure you’ll put it once he tells you. It took a little blind kid whose mom was involved with a member of a local gang and a minor weapons deal in said gang to get him back into his heroics. Now that he solved this problem and can leave this kid in good conscience, he’s ready to go home.

“Y/n, I’m coming back to New York.”

“That’s great, Matt. I’m so glad you’re done brooding.”

He laughs on the other end but lets you continue your train of thought otherwise uninterrupted.

“Your friends are worried about you. Like I’ve told you before, they’ll be so happy to see you.”

“Are you home?”

“I’m at the store right now, why?”

He lets out a soft laugh. “I meant, are you in New York, but I guess that answers my question.” He pauses. “Uh, I want to talk to you in person.”

“Of course. Is everything okay, Matt?”

“As okay as it ever is right now.”

“Okay. When do you want to meet?”

“Do you have any plans tonight?”

“No, are you on your way here now?”

“I’m on the greyhound, yeah.”

“That sounds like shit. I guess you’ll be wanting a drink after that.”

He laughs. “After living in the sewers for months and having a demon take over your body, a crowded bus is paradise. Colorful scents and all.”

“If that’s paradise, Josie’s must be heaven.”

“Oh, Josie’s,” He laughs.

“Even she’s been asking about you. You’ve touched a lot of lives, Matt.”

There’s a long pause on the other end before he changes the subject. “So, I should be there in a few hours.”

“Alright call me again when you get closer so I can head over.”

“Got it.” He pauses. “Hey, do you mind if we meet for coffee instead?”

“That’s fine. Matt, are you sure you’re okay? You seem… nervous.”

“I’m coming home after I dropped off the grid for months. I’ll have a line of people waiting to yell at me.”

“Well, I’m not going to say, I told you so, but I can’t help you there.”

“Yeah, I know. Thank you, for being there for me all this time.”

—0—

Matt’s a nervous wreck. Over the past few months, you’ve become a crucial part of his life. He knows the word crucial is dramatic but it’s how he feels about you. You’re not only important; you helped him find his way back to his humanity after a  _demon possession_. More than that, you understand him. Over the last few months, he has found that out.

When you get to the coffee place, you find Matt with both your orders on a little table he claimed in the corner.

“Matt!” You walk up to him with your arms outstretched.

He lets out a breath against your neck as he leans into a hug. No matter what’s about to happen, having you here, in front of him, is an immense relief. He missed you.

“Hey, I—” If he can’t say that he missed you, how is he supposed to confess his undying love for you? “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Matt. I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Me too. I’m sure Mexico is great for some people but I left my heart in New York.”

“You couldn't take your heart anywhere else if you tried.”

He nods, letting the silence stretch for a minute. He can’t think of a natural segway to what he wants to say, so he stops trying. He clears his throat before he starts talking again.

“I’m not sure how to say this, but I need to and I hope that if you don’t agree, that we can still be friends.”

“That's not ominous at all.” You let out a nervous laugh.

“Listen, I have two full plates. Now that I’m back, I fully intend on getting back to both my job as a lawyer and duties as Daredevil. I know you have your plate full with your job too. Over the last few months, I’ve fallen in love with you. I know you’re going to wonder if I’m ready for a relationship, especially with the person who saved me, so let me tell you that I’ve thought this through. And I think we could work because not only do we get along, and I’m hoping you love me in the way that I love you, but because we both have our own lives. We're both in similar lines of work, so we’ll understand what the other is dealing with. Because, I don’t know about you, but 80% of the fights and subsequent breakups I’ve had were about me being Daredevil and not being able to carve out enough time for the other person.”

“Yeah, that does sound familiar. Especially the part about falling in love with you. I’m glad to hear that my feelings are reciprocated and that your feelings aren’t some form of hero worship. Also, how long were you practicing that speech?”

He laughs. “The whole bus ride here. Why, did it sound rehearsed?”

“It sounded like an opening argument and presenting of facts.”

“Ah, I’ll remember to be more spontaneous and passion fueled next time.”

“I wouldn’t mind that, but I also know who I fell for and it’s part of why I love you. It was adorable watching you power through it.”

“Uh, good.” He thinks back on his speech— it’s a jumble in his mind now— and your reaction. It has been an exchange of information and he needs to make it more than that. “So, you and me, are we giving this a shot?”

“I assumed that’s what all this was building to. Yes, Matt, I want that.”

He smiles, leaning in to give you a passionate, but still chaste kiss. Unfortunately, you’re still in the coffee shop.

“Matt, do you want to come back to my place?”

In lieu of an answer, he stands, pushes his chair in and extends his hand to you.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You take his hand.

—0—

It’s a couple weeks after Matt’s love confession and he’s sleeping peacefully next to you. He looks years younger as he lays beside you, his features relaxed until they aren’t anymore. He starts mumbling something unintelligible before he lashes out and you have to catch his arm before it hits you.

“Hey, Matt, wake up.”

He gasps, bolting upright when you shake him. You sit back, give him a minute to catch his breath and realize what’s going on before you put a tentative hand on his shoulder. He startles but otherwise seems fine with the contact.

“Hey, Matt, baby, what’s going on? Are you alright?”

He shakes his head. “I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

“Alright, well, I’m here for whatever you need.”

He lets out a breath. “You’re proof that Karma isn’t real because I haven’t done one thing in my life to deserve you.”

“Well, that’s bullshit. Matt, one thing I will never understand is how you can spend every waking moment of your life helping others and think that a little demon possession undoes all that. You’re a decent man, Matthew. Of course, you have your flaws, but everyone does. You deserve someone who understands and supports you.”

“You know, since we’ve been together, this is the first night I’ve had a nightmare while I was sleeping with you. I knew it was a coincidence and wouldn’t last, but it was a nice bit of magic while it did.”

You kiss his cheek and coax him to lie back down in your arms.

“I wish I could get rid of them for you.” You tell him as he settles, pressed against your side, his head pillowed on your chest.

He has a little sad smile that you can see with the streetlights bleeding into the apartment. “You know, it’s rare that they’re even about the Beast anymore. They’re about the times leading up to him possessing me. When he was only a whisper in my ear. Before I woke up, I was killing Bullseye again. That was my choice.”

“Alright, Matt. You’ve mentioned this before and I didn’t have much more to offer you than a shoulder to cry on. But I thought about it. How do you know?”

“What do you mean,  _how do I know_? That was my rage, my enemy, my aim for the Hand. Why would the Beast kill someone who would thrive on and contribute to the violence and death it wanted to create for the city?”

“Neither of us is an expert, but if you ask me, it was the Beast.”

“I know you're trying to help, but please don’t try to shift responsibility. I know a lot of what happened was him in my body, but that one was me.”

“I’m not trying to shift the blame. If you believe in your heart of hearts that  _you_  killed Bullseye of your own volition— and you’re right— I need you to know that I love you anyway. This isn’t me trying to paint you as an innocent for either of our sake. I know you by now, Matt and it seems odd that after years of restraint, you snapped like that."

Matt moves out of your embrace. "He killed a hundred people!"

"I know; that was shitty. If that was what finally made you snap, I'm awed that it was a group of people you didn't even know when he's going after the people you love for so many years. Knowing they were part of your city and now their loved ones have to go through what you have so many times. You know what I've always admired about you, Matt?" He doesn't respond, but you didn't expect him to. "You've suffered so much and life has been so unfair to you in every way, but you refuse to take it laying down. Any given thing you've been through would've overwhelmed someone else-- and that was before the demon possession. It would be so easy and justified for you to give up. But you never have. Instead, you dedicate your life to making sure that the world is a little more fair for someone else."

"I have a feeling that you know I won't let that make me feel better, but it means a lot to hear that you admire me for any reason." He moves to lay in your arms again.

"Matt, I'm your girlfriend, I'd hope that there are a few things I admire about you." You place a kiss on his forehead. "You should contact Daimon, talk to him about this. You know he won’t judge you and he knows how these things work better than anyone. A demon living inside him is his Thing.”

Matt lets out a breath. “What am I supposed to say to him? I murdered someone and now I feel guilty, please help me?”

“Sort of. I have a theory that you should talk to him about, though. You’ve told me how you don’t remember what happened when it was controlling you. But I don’t think it’s that simple. Before you killed Bullseye, you were hearing his whispers, feeling the Beast try to take over here and there. After you heard how many people Bullseye killed, you felt all that rage along with the stress of leading the hand. Now there’s this weird presence in your head making you lash out, convincing you that increasingly brutal methods are okay. Would you have known if the Beast took over for a second and ran Bullseye through? Did you always know at the beginning or did you just feel a flash of anger sometimes?”

He lays beside you in silence.

“Because from what Daimon talked to me about, the Beast found a cult to worship it. When they summoned it, it was weak. One thing Daimon told me was that with most possessions, the host fights and the demon ends up killing the person— or sometimes the person kills them— before they can do whatever it is they were up to. If they want to accomplish their goal, they have to trick the host and only the strongest ones have the foresight and patience to do that. You weren’t dealing with some lesser demon any amateur could’ve exorcized. It makes sense that the Beast needed someone with your rage, and the drive to funnel that rage into something, so it could take you over gradually. This was a dude who disappeared and the other hell-lords went: that’s fine, he would’ve won if we fought anyway. And  _you_ beat him.”

Matt takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I’ll talk to him.”

“Good, it’ll be good for you.”

—0—

Matt meets with Daimon the next night.

“Yeah, it sounds like she’s onto something.” Daimon agrees. “I haven’t had a lot of dealings with the Beast because, as I told her, it went underground before my parents even thought of me. Sure, different groups have called me to deal with the Hand, but I don’t know the Beast personally.”

Matt lets out a desperate laugh. “Do you ever take a step back from all this and have a laugh? If you would’ve told me as a child that I’d be discussing who knows which demons personally, I might have actually listened to the nuns.”

Daimon grins. “I know what you mean. I’ve sort of branded the whole Son of Satan thing, but even being half demon, I remember my childhood and wonder if things might have been different. I grew up in a Catholic orphanage too, you know. I was set to become a priest until my inheritance showed up on my 21st birthday. I went to the old house and found my mom’s diary, talking about her marriage to my father and finding out he was Satan. It drove her insane-- not a hyperbole. But you know, me diverting from that path was probably for the best. I mean, can you imagine having me on the other side of a confessional?”

Matt laughs. “I’m sure you’d be good at it. You're a good guy, hiding it under a layer of edgy hell-lord.”

“So I hear.” He pauses. “How are you holding up?”

“Oh, you know.”

“Yeah, I remember when my dark soul first started surfacing. I did a few things I’m not proud of before I learned to control it.”

“Did you ever kill anyone?”

“I came close. More than once. And it wasn’t that I tried to kill someone and couldn’t do it at the last second. Each time was in a rage, I let my dark soul take over completely. As I was about to kill this person I had to remind myself that I wouldn’t be defending anyone with that act. I would’ve done it because I wanted them dead. So, I understand that overwhelming anger at an enemy. I also know about Demons. And I know that the Beast would know exactly how to break you. No one can know for sure if that was you or him who killed Bullseye, but you’re a good man, Matt. I hope you can find a way to alleviate that guilt and move on.”

“Thanks, Daimon.”

—0—

Weeks pass; Matt’s still agonizing over everything. Of course, he is. He wouldn’t be himself if he wasn’t. He also wouldn’t be a Good Catholic Boy if he let go of his guilt and his religion is something he’s clinging to right now. When he wakes up from nightmares you pull him close and hold him while you walk him through deep breaths. On particularly bad nights, he babbles incoherent prayers into your neck until he falls back into a fitful sleep. But despite everything, he is getting better. There are fewer nightmares and even fewer bad nights. Though still wracked with guilt, you think he’s coming to terms with what he did and the fact that the city is better off with the devil on the streets, no matter what he’s done in the past.


End file.
